


Perhaps It's Quite Fashionable

by Liadt



Category: Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crossdressing, F/M, Hugging, its the cleaning lady disguise again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:11:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2784440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liadt/pseuds/Liadt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Romana was sent to aid the Doctor, she didn't think it was to help him with his disguise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perhaps It's Quite Fashionable

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Akashasheiress.

The Doctor was crouched behind a row of grey, utilitarian, filing cabinets. He was hiding down a corridor from Sir Bertram Wootup-Frind’s private army of alien renegades, in one corner of a sprawling industrial complex. The Doctor had decided to go undercover as a cleaner, but he wasn’t as confident in his disguise as he was fifteen minutes ago. His outfit consisted of a navy tabard, floral tea dress, paisley headscarf, thick tights and incongruous Doc Martin boots. To top it off, he was wearing colourful, dangly earrings, that clashed with the blue eye shadow he had put on. 

The Doctor was so busy concentrating on the corridor in front of him, he didn’t hear someone come up behind him and place their hands on his shoulders. The Doctor leapt up and span round, while issuing a series of strong Gallifreyan expletives from his mouth. The stranger’s hands didn’t belong to one of Sir Bertram’s heavies, but a slender lady. She was dressed in a soft blue, empire-line dress, with a brooch, in the shape of a bowl of fruit, pinned to her chest. On her head, she wore a small, straw boater. She stepped back from the Doctor, not because of his language, but because she was afraid, his earrings might swing out and give her a black eye.

“It’s nice to see you too, Doctor.”

“Romana!” exclaimed the Doctor, “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been sent by the Time Lord High Council to help you and you are in need of serious help,” said Romana, eyeing the Doctor’s outfit.

The Doctor guessing what she was alluding to spoke, “It’s not the first time I’ve dressed as a woman and it’s a very effective disguise. It’s proved successful before. Moreover, I find your attitude curiously narrow minded. Did I make negative comments when you dragged up?”

“As I was wearing a pink version of your clothing at the time, I know that would have appealed to your enormous ego. I don’t care if you choose to wear dresses, as long as they suit you.”

“I’m supposed to be a cleaning lady. The idea is to look as dowdy as possible, that way I become invisible to any passing guards’ scrutiny.”

“I think your make-up would have blown your cover.”

“I had to put some slap on otherwise Sir Bertram’s goons would go ‘Oh look, there goes the Doctor. Why is he wearing a silly headscarf?’”

“The make-up is rather-” began Romana.

“Alluring? Yes, I know, but if the guards look beyond my dress and are stunned by my striking looks that’s a weapon against them isn’t it?” The Doctor struck a pose that was more reminiscent of a mountaineer that had reached the peak of the highest mountain, than of a sexy siren.

“I was going to say, rather like you’d applied it the dark with boxing gloves on.”

“It’s not enhancing my natural charms then?”

“In a word, ‘No’.”

“When I’ve been out with people who have covered themselves in make-up, they’ve been showered in compliments. They look much healthier.”

“It’s like art. There’s a difference between an oil painting by the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood and paint slopped on to a canvas by a bored time-tot,” explained Romana.

The Doctor looked dejected. “It’s the eyebrows isn’t it? I know what you’re thinking: no amount of slap can stop people pointing and thinking I can take bottles tops off with them.” The Doctor pulled a duster out of the pocket of his tabard and attempted to take off his make-up, but in the process only smeared it across his face. “It’s not working is it?” said the Doctor, in frustration. He threw the stained rag to the ground and glowered at it.

“Oh Doctor, I’ve missed you,” said Romana and suddenly moved forward to embrace him. The Doctor looked panicked. Hemmed in, as he was, by the filing cabinets, he couldn’t escape her advances. “I don’t do hugs,” he said faintly. Romana ignored him and enveloped him in a hug. The Doctor remained standing stiffly for a moment, with his arms stretched out awkwardly and then relaxed and put his arms around her.

“Romana,” the Doctor said softly, “You hug differently.”

Romana moved her chin, so it was easier for her to speak. “I’d forgotten, it’s been a long time since you’ve had a Gallifreyean hug. Humans are well meaning, but they don’t know how to do it right, do they? Remember Duggan?”

“What about Duggan?” said the Doctor, a note of jealously had crept into his voice.

“He always messed up, bless him.”

“Ah yes, he did.” The Doctor tried not to sound too pleased. 

“Anyway by my calculations, we should have plenty of time for you to show me what you can do with your eyebrows, before the guards reach this level.”

“Like what?” The Doctor was puzzled.

“I thought you said you could take bottle tops off with them.”

The Doctor waggled his eyebrows and Romana’s boater fell to the floor. Romana muffled a laugh by burying her face into the Doctor’s neck. The Doctor smiled. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed Romana’s company.


End file.
